Silver Lining
by Lift the Wings
Summary: After a close encounter with a pack of werewolves, muggle Vivian's life is turned upside down. Entering a world she never knew existed and shunned by those in it, she struggles to accept her condition and her role as a second class creature in this strange world. Only a young magizoologist and a meddlesome old wizard are willing to help her learn to survive this painful new life.
1. Prologue

Hello all! Welcome to my story! It will be dark at times, but trust me, it won't always be. You have been forewarned though; when I say dark, I do mean dark, and the rating M is not used lightly! Fortunately, it won't just be for gore and violence ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything JK Rowling has created, but the main character is mine.

Prologue

Massive, ancient pines whipped violently beneath the wrath of a raging wind. The vicious gale pushed and pulled at my clothes, tugged at my hair, as I wove almost drunkenly between the thick trunks. The air rushed from my lungs, my breathing labored and my chest burning, but I couldn't stop, not unless I wanted to welcome death with open arms.

Behind me, the piercing howls echoed through the forest, bouncing about and confusing me; in a panic, I nearly collided with a branch as it swung into my field of vision, fearing it was the monsters closing in around me.

Dashing this way and that, I prayed the forest's edge would offer me some aid, a passerby or even a park ranger. Though they wouldn't stand a chance against the beasts I had encountered, perhaps they could offer me some means of escape, or owned a gun. Could a normal weapon kill one of those things?

I didn't know, but I prayed I would live long enough to find out.

A sudden whoosh sounded in my ear and a set of jaws appeared in my peripheral. Without a thought, I fell to my knees, narrowly avoiding the snapping teeth and tearing claws.

But I was down and this would be the end. On my feet, at least I stood a chance, but there, in the dirt and rotting leaves, I would meet my death. Even now, as I trembled and struggled to right myself, I could hear them, their claws digging through the underbrush, their snarling growls and huffing breaths, circling my fallen form.

There was no pleading with them; they were merely animals, dangerous and deadly. They wouldn't hear my pleas, feel any mercy toward their next meal.

They were bigger than any wolves I had ever seen or read about. On their hind legs, which I had seen them stand on with ease, they were well over six feet tall. They had stunted muzzles and sparse, coarse hair covering their long, lanky bodies. They weren't pretty, with protruding rib cages, thin, short tails, and razor-sharp canines.

There were six of them in all, forming a loose circle around me. They clawed at the ground in excitement, their inch long talons shredding leaves and rot beneath them. They yipped and barked, anxious to go in for the kill, but all eyes turned to one beast in particular.

Mine followed, sky blue eyes widening in fear, anticipation, at the sight of the massive beast skulking toward me from the shadows. He growled low in his throat, a deep, guttural sound that had an unbidden whimper escaping my parched mouth in answer.

He was bigger than the rest, his fur a deep midnight black and eyes a glowing orange. His lip curled up over his bared teeth, saliva and blood dripping from his snapping jaws. His body was coiled, ready to pounce at any moment, and I couldn't help but cower in the face of death as he stalked to my side.

I could smell the coppery tang of blood from his maw as he pressed his nose to my hair. I prepared myself for the bite, erratic breath stilling in my lungs and heart all but falling still. But he didn't crush my skull with those powerful jaws, as he had with Michael. He didn't tear out my throat like the gray one did to Emily. Nor did he rip my limbs from my torso like the small one had with Phillip.

He simply snuffled and sniffed, butting my head this way and that until my frazzled nerves took hold and I lifted a hand instinctively to shove him away.

The creature didn't appreciate that and suddenly I was on my back, his crushing weight pinning me to the damp soil beneath, two heavy paws, hands, on my chest. With a simple flick, the piercing claws on his left paw slashed through my skin like butter.

I didn't recognize the shriek piercing the night as my own until my lungs burned and my throat turned raw. Head pounding and body aching, I stared up at the beast, my hatred rising as he bared down on me with what seemed like a taunting, doggy smile.

Lifting me head and exposing my neck, I spat a mouthful of blood into his face and seethed, "Finish it then."

He growled, round eyes narrowing, before throwing his head back and baying into the night. His companions followed suit, their howls mingling, harmonizing, disappearing into the wind.

What felt like thousands of knives tore through my flesh, blood spurting from my neck and coating the creature's muzzle. His breath was hot against my open wound and a wet gurgle was the only thing I could supply. Everything burned, everything screamed, the pain tearing through my body like an inferno.

I couldn't resist the assault as the creature made to bite me again; head lolling to one side, I watched, detached, as the others closed in around us.

And then, there was a flash of light, beyond the creatures, beyond the clearing, and I knew I was dying. The light; they always spoke of it. Alluring and warm, beckoning you forward, beckoning you to the afterlife.

I tried to move, tried to reach for the light; I couldn't feel the pain anymore anyway. Couldn't feel the beast eating me alive.

The light seemed to surprise and startle the animals, the others scattering like roaches, off into the darkness and safety of the forest. All but my attacker. Though he ceased his assault, he loomed over my bleeding and broken body, defending his prize from death.

But why?

Unless the light was not the end, though my muddled mind couldn't begin to comprehend what it might be. There was a muffled boom and the beast was gone, flung from my person and still on the ground beside me.

Though it still breathed, it was immobile and I wondered vaguely if the park rangers had found me after all.

Though my vision blurred, I saw several hazy figures reach my side. Two dropped to their knees, one with flowing silver robes, and the other with wild, auburn hair. Their voices were incomprehensible to me, their words flowing over me like water. they poked and prodded at my torn flesh with the, long instruments, but I couldn't discern what they could be. A set of pale green eyes dropped to my face, so close that an accompanying nose brushed mine; I could barely make out the words escaping his lips as he muttered pleadingly, "Just hold on. You're safe now."

/

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	2. Chapter 1

Welcome back! I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please let me know.

Chapter One

 _Though my vision blurred, I saw several hazy figures reach my side. Two dropped to their knees, one with flowing silver robes, and the other with wild, auburn hair. Their voices were incomprehensible to me, their words flowing over me like water. they poked and prodded at my torn flesh with the, long instruments, but I couldn't discern what they could be. A set of pale green eyes dropped to my face, so close that an accompanying nose brushed mine; I could barely make out the words escaping his lips as he muttered pleadingly, "Just hold on. You're safe now."_

Everything burned. My skin, my bones, my teeth, my mind. Though I knew the only way I could feel the pain was that I was, in fact, alive, I couldn't fathom having survived the assault I had suffered in the forest. There was no way. The wolf-like creature was _eating me_.

How did one survive something like that?

A scream caught in my throat as I felt something smooth, cold, press against my lips. I turned from it it surprise and a gentle voice scolded softly, "Now, now, don't be like that, Vivian. You need to drink. Come now, open your mouth. There, that's it, yes. Perfect."

I hadn't realized I heeded his words until the sudden onslaught of blessedly cool water entered my mouth and choked me. My body moved without my instruction, a hand cradling my neck and head, holding me upright and keeping me from drowning.

"Bollocks, my fault," he muttered, a soft cloth dabbing at my mouth, "I'm sorry; I didn't think. There; that's better, now isn't it? Can you hear me?"

I managed a short, painful nod.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, the weight of the platform I found myself on dipping at my side, "wonderful. Can you open your eyes, Vivian? Hmm? I know it's hard, you must be in excruciating pain-"

 _Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes_ , I grumbled to myself, struggling desperately to follow his instruction. It was far more difficult than I had hoped, but he remained encouraging, realizing that I was doing my best.

Eventually, I managed to crack an eyelid open, grimacing immediately as I was blinded by the brilliant light of day. The weight disappeared and the man's voice faded slightly as he moved away from me.

"Bugger, didn't think about that!" he muttered, the room darkening with a heavy swooshing sound, "thank Merlin you weren't attacked by a vampire!"

 _Thank… Merlin? Vampires?_

Who was this man? Who said such a thing? It was unusual, absurd even. Merlin wasn't real; vampires didn't exist.

Then again, I had no explanation for the creatures I had seen in the woods. They certainly weren't anything I was familiar with; I hadn't seen one, read of one in any book I had come across. I didn't even know if it _was_ a normal creature.

Prying both eyes open, I was grateful for the darkness, licking my chapped lips and surveying the perplexing scene around me in surprise. Almost instantly, I noticed that my own senses seemed different. My vision was sharper, clearer, than I remembered. I could see every last groove, divot, in the stone walls around me. Through a dirty glass window, I spotted a bird high in the sky, every last feather visible at this distance. My nose twitched at the assaulting scents that struck it, confusing and overwhelming.

My heart lodged itself in my throat and I exhaled heavily, focusing on the room around me. It was perhaps the strangest place I had ever seen, filled to the brim with devices that I couldn't even begin to comprehend their uses. Things that spun, blinked, flashed; tapestries with symbols I didn't recognize; pictures that… moved?

Gaping, I leapt as a pair of startlingly green eyes blocked my vision. Accompanying them were more freckles than I could possibly count, thin lips, and wild auburn hair. He smelled of firewood, hay, and a faint hint of sweat. Leaning away from him, I blinked, the very motion aching and difficult.

He mimicked my action, scooting back and nearly falling off of the cushy bed. He righted himself quickly, placing himself beside my feet and watching me silently, eagerly.

He was a lean man in a paisley brown vest and an off-white button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. An untied bow tie hung loosely around his neck and he tugged it away, rubbing his nape sheepishly. His gaze fell to his large hands, watching his fingers wrap and curl around themselves. His eyes met mine once, twice, and then returned to his lap.

"How… how do you feel?"

He rolled his shoulders, his body tensed. Bewildered, I thought - yes, I _heard_ a quick, skipping thud, that sounded strangely like a heartbeat. He chanced a glance at me once more and a small, sheepish smile tugged at his mouth.

From the warmth and care in his tone before I had opened my eyes, I hadn't expected the man to be so uncomfortable in my presence. Maybe now that I was awake and aware of what had happened, he was nervous?

Or was it my appearance?

I had to be a mangled mess and I tried to lift a hand, suddenly self-conscious. My arm protested the action and I winced, my face flushing. How bad was the damage? My skin was probably shredded and discolored. My eyes fell to a thick bandage against the column of my throat and my skin began to itch terribly.

"D-do you remember what happened, Vivian?"

"I-," my tone was hoarse, rough, and I cleared my scratchy throat, "who are you?"

"Forgive me!" he exclaimed, eyes fluttering rapidly, lifting an inch off the bed before settling himself back down, "my name's Newt. Newt Scamander. Pleasure to meet you."

Newt.

It was a strange name, but a quick glance about the room and I realized it suited him well.

"Newt," I tested the name on my tongue and he offered me a fleeting smile, "what-where am I?"

"Well, you're currently in the, eh, well, maybe it's best if he explained it," the young man was on his feet in an instant, darting from the room without another word.

I stared after him in confusion, wondering who _he_ was, let alone Newt. He certainly didn't look like the type to be roaming the woods in the middle of the night, let alone fend off those beasts that had killed-

A heavy lump rose in my throat and my eyes stung. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and I swallowed thickly, willing the crimson-soaked memories from my mind. But once I recalled them, they wouldn't cease. Limbs and screams filled the air, blood and bits of men and women who didn't deserve to meet such a violent end scattered about in the darkness.

A tremor ran through me and I was grateful for the footfalls returning to the room. Exhaling shakily, I focused my attention on Newt and another man, equally as tall with a short auburn beard adorning his face and half-moon spectacles covering his brilliant blue eyes.

Newt frowned, immediately hastening to my side and perching himself on the bed once more. He reached for me, his fingers curling around the empty air in front of him, before he retracted his hand. He swallowed, a sympathetic smile flashing my way, before he produced a tissue seemingly out of nowhere and offered it to me.

I tried once more to lift a hand, but when he realized it wasn't going to happen, he gingerly, hesitantly brushed beneath my eyes. His voice was no more than a whisper as he muttered stutteringly, "P-please don't cry, Vivian. It's… alright now."

"Yes, my child," the other man approached, his tone strong and warm, his smile comforting. He was far more affectionate than Newt, resting a heavy palm on my shoulder and squeezing gently.

Wincing, I faltered under his touch and he removed his hand quickly, dipping his head, "I'm quite sorry, my dear. Newton, lad, do you think you could fetch Ms. Baxter another blood replenishing potion and something for the pain, perhaps? I should have something in my private stock."

 _Newton_ hopped up and ducked his head, dashing from sight without another word.

The other man drew a leg up and settled himself on my other side. He folded his hands atop his lap and watched me silently for a moment. He exhaled heavily and removed his glasses, "I'm sure you have many a question, my dear."

"Who are you?" I queried gruffly.

"Ah yes, that would help things, wouldn't it?" he chuckled softly, "I am Albus Dumbledore. I teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts."

"I- none of that made sense," I stared, confused, wild eyes falling on Newt as he returned to the room and uncorked a small, red vial.

"What doesn't make sense?" he queried, approaching the bed and handing me the glass, glancing between this Professor Dumbledore fellow and I.

"Any of this," I replied, rolling the vial between my fingers, skeptical of the strange-smelling liquid, "this- I'm not in a hospital. Shouldn't I be in a hospital? After… what happened…"

"Do you remember what happened?" Newt queried, brows high on his forehead, an almost excited edge to his voice. He reached for a sheet of parchment and a quill, hastily jotting down a few words.

Aghast, I gaped at the young man in silence until he slowly lifted his eyes and lowered his quill. He shrunk beneath my stare and muttered, "I-I'm sorry. I- it's just that I-"

"Mr. Scamander here is perhaps the best person who could ever be of service to you, Ms. Baxter," the professor noted calmly, "he may be a bit overzealous, I admit, but I assure you, you are in the most capable hands. You see, Mr. Scamander is a magizoologist."

"What… is a magizoologist?"

"I study magical creatures," Newt replied hastily, apologetically, setting aside his notes with some reluctance.

"Magi-"

"Yes, my dear, magical creatures," Dumbledore responded, settling his glasses back on his face and offering me a warm smile, "you see, Hogwarts is a magical school, Newton and I are wizards, and you are, now, a magical being yourself."

"Is this an asylum?" I queried shakily, panic rising through me as I struggled to escape the bed. My fear only increased as Newt rose to his feet and pressed his hands firmly to my shoulders, preventing any chance of fleeing. "Please, let me go! I just- I don't-"

Newt pressed a vial to my lips, upending the liquid and forcing me to swallow. Though I resisted him, I was far too weak and found myself melting against the mattress once more.

"S-sorry," he flinched, "it was a calming draught."

Calming draught, indeed. Instantly, all terror fled and my limbs felt leaden once more. My heart slowed and my mind cleared and, though I pinned Newt with a frustrated frown, I had to admit I was more willing to hear him out.

"What's going on?" I inquired brokenly, "I don't understand."

"No, I don't suppose you would," Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "let me begin by assuring you that you are not in an asylum. This is a school for young witches and wizards to learn to control and excel in their magical abilities."

 _Magic_.

Feeling faint, I watched in awe as he produced a thin, white piece of wood from his robes. With a quick flick of the wrist, he conjured a carnation out of thin air and rested it on my lap with a small smile.

"I am a wizard, as is young Mr. Scamander, here," the older man - _wizard_ \- nodded toward his fellow redhead. Newt nodded fervently, and, though he didn't perform any brilliant shows of magic, he too retrieved a stick from the stand beside my bed and showed it off. "I was his professor at one point in time and, if fortune favors me, I will continue to teach brilliant students like him for many years to come."

"Where are we?" I queried softly, confusedly, "where is this school?"

"Scotland," Newt supplied eagerly, "actually quite close to where we found you."

"Are those things still around?" I queried, alarmed, though strangely enough, the draught kept me from lashing out once more.

"They are still alive, but they cannot - and will not - get to you again, Ms. Baxter," Dumbledore informed me, "you made the unfortunate mistake of wandering into what we call the Forbidden Forest. Those _things_ are werewolves; there is a pack of them living deep in the heart of the forest."

"The others-"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Baxter, but you were the only survivor."

Looking away from the professor, I swallowed another round of tears and focused on the more confusing part of his statement.

"Werewolves. In Scotland?"

"They are in other locales, as well," Newt blurted, reining in any excitement he may have been feeling, "Romania, Canada, Bulgaria… Those are known packs. There are certainly more than that, I would think. They tend to keep themselves hidden, if they can. Werewolves are-"

"I believe we can discuss that at another time, Mr. Scamander," Dumbledore interrupted kindly, a twinkle in his eye at the passion in Newt's tone.

I, on the other hand, found my nerves returning. Worriedly, I queried, "But- I've heard stories. About werewolves. They- if they bite you… did- do I- am I-"

"That brings us to my comment that you are now a magical being, Ms. Baxter," the professor sighed heavily, disappointment coloring his tone, "I am most regretful for having to inform you that you are now, in fact, a werewolf."

"But I- how do you know?" my hands trembled and my head throbbed, bile rising to my throat, "are you _sure_ … what am I supposed to do now?"

"Rest, for the moment, my dear," Albus rose to his feet, resting a gentle hand to my forehead. Almost instantly, my eyelids drooped, exhaustion settling over me. "You need to heal, to regain your strength. We shall talk more when you wake."

Newt offered me a fleeting smile before he rose from my bedside. I was asleep before the pair of them left the room.

/

Blackcat711: thank you! I know, I wish there were more! Glad you like it :)

Doctorwhoamypond: thank ya!


	3. Chapter 2

Hello all!! Thanks for returning! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I can't wait to get further into this story. We're still just getting started!

Chapter Two

 _"Rest, for the moment, my dear," Albus rose to his feet, resting a gentle hand to my forehead. Almost instantly, my eyelids drooped, exhaustion settling over me. "You need to heal, to regain your strength. We shall talk more when you wake."_ _Newt offered me a fleeting smile before he rose from my bedside. I was asleep before the pair of them left the room._

"Come on, now; yes, yes, that's it!" Newt cheered softly, his light green eyes flitting up to meet mine only briefly; a flush colored his long neck and he looked away quickly, his hands growing clammy on my upper arms. "Ah, y-yes, excellent work. You're doing wonderfully, Vivian."

"Newt," I replied, a slight smile on my face despite the exasperation coloring my tone, "I walked _ten_ _steps_."

His shoulders lifted slightly, his head falling to one side as he stared at his feet. A boyish grin flitted across his face and he chanced a glance at my face once more as he noted, "But that's two more than yesterday."

It was true; I had been in this… _Hogwarts_ for the past three days - though I had only been conscious for less than a day - taking as many potions as Albus and Newt were able to bring me. There were no other professors at the school, as it was the middle of summer, and they were steadily running out of their stock in the infirmary. Though both wizards were proficient at the craft of potions, neither wanted to spend too much time away from me in my delicate position as a newly-turned werewolf.

 _Everything_ about that thought was unbelievable and yet, utterly true. Well, I couldn't be entirely sure there were no other professors in the castle; I hadn't been able to get to the bathroom on my own, let alone explore the purportedly sprawling school and grounds.

But I had seen them both perform magic as if it were the most natural thing in the world; conjuring objects out of thin air, transforming items from one thing to another without batting an eyelash, summoning potions or blankets or parchment with a flick of their wands. The list went on and every single time it boggled my mind.

Newt would occasionally give his wand a bit more of a flourish, offering me a wink when he knew I was gawping at the sight. But how could I not? I had gone twenty-seven years without seeing anything quite so spectacular as tea pouring from the tip of a wand into a waiting, _floating_ teacup.

It was spectacular.

I desperately wanted to see the rest of the castle; Newt claimed the staircases moved and that actual ghosts floated through the halls, walls, and people on occasion. There were house elves - small, pale creatures with massive eyes and floppy ears - that served the meals and did the cooking and cleaning.

Also, I wanted to leave the company of the portraits and their unwanted opinions. Now that they knew I was a… _werewolf_ … they would make snide comments, ogling and sneering and generally making me feel like a piece of garbage.

"What are they thinking?"

"I always knew those two were off; oddballs, the both of them…"

"-after what he did-"

"It's disgusting, allowing that thing in the castle…"

Newt shot the nearest portrait - a haughty lord from the mid-seventeenth century who was incredibly vindictive when it came to werewolves - a pensive frown and chided, "That's not a very nice thing to say, Lord Benedict."

' _Not a very nice thing_ ' was a bit of an understatement, though from what I had gleaned of Newt's character in the past few days, it wasn't an unusual thing to hear from him. He didn't appear to have a mean bone in his body; hell, he could barely speak to me without stuttering, let alone properly rebuking a vicious portrait.

"I don't need any lip from you, Scamander," Benedict retorted, his thin nose wrinkling in disgust as he surveyed the young man, "cavorting with a half-breed; you _sicken_ me."

"One more word from you and I'll tear you off that wall and burn you," I snapped, face flushing an unsightly shade of red as I felt Newt's gaze fall on me, "how 'bout that?"

Benedict grimaced and huffed, blustering on, but I returned my attention to the man currently keeping me upright. He eyed me with a sad smile, murmuring, "Please don't take his words to heart, Vivian. He- he doesn't understand. Being a werewolf doesn't make you a bad person, or a half-breed, or-or disgusting… You're not any of those things. From, that is, from what I know of you."

A wince flashed across my face and the young wizard guided me carefully to the window, helping me settle into a wooden chair with gentle hands. Huffing, I lifted a shaky hand and wiped the sweat from my clammy brow, "A wheelchair would be bloody useful."

"A- Vivian, that's _brilliant_!" he exclaimed excitedly, tearing his wand from his pocket and aiming it at my chair. He noticed my widening eyes and sent a crooked grin my way. "Trust me and just don't move."

With a flick of the wrist, I watched in amazement as a set of wheels form along the sides, feeling the back and seat plump up into plush, plum-colored cushions. My legs moved suddenly and I glanced down; he had conjured up a footrest to support my slippered feet.

"There," he grinned, fisting his hand on his hips, satisfied with his work, "that shall make matters a bit easier, I think."

"Now you and Professor Dumbledore don't have to worry about carrying me around all the time," I smiled, leaning my head against the pillowed back and sighing in contentment, "as long as I can get to the chair, I should be alright. Y'know, making it to the loo and all that."

"It was really no trouble," Newt replied immediately, ruffling his hair with a shaky hand, "you're light as a feather and, well, no, I-I suppose it is, ah, less uncomfortable for you if I didn't, er-"

He was beat red by now, wringing his hands and chewing on his lower lip. He moved from the window and began to pace, his words stringing together until they were unintelligible.

"Newt, I just want to be less of a burden to you," I took pity on him, interrupting him gently and eyeing the portraits with distaste, "you've done so much for me in the last few days… I don't think anyone else would have. I- they've been filling me in on werewolves and-"

Newt followed my gaze and frowned, "They don't know what they're talking about. They only know the myths and legends they've learned over the years, and that are all wrong. So very wrong."

"Do they only turn into werewolves on the full moon?" I queried, my heart leading to my throat at the thought of lumping myself into that group. _I will turn into a werewolf on the full moon, won't I, Newt?_

"Well, yes, that part is true, but-"

"And they can be killed by a silver bullet, yes?"

"I believe it has to do with an allergic reaction to silver, though I have yet to be able to prove that theory-"

"They- I'll crave human flesh, won't I?"

He rounded on me, his harried steps halting, his eye eyes gleaming with determination, " _No_."

Toying with a loose thread on the comforter draped across my legs, I fingered the bandage on my neck with my free hand. My throat grew raw and I noted thickly, "They did."

Newt knelt before me, gathering my hands in his and pressing them to his chest. His heart pounded beneath my fingers, though I could hear it hammering clear as day against his ribs. His lips drew to a thin line, his Adam's Apple bobbing, "Werewolves have been shunned by society for centuries. Cast out, tortured, killed. Families have disowned, even murdered, their children for contracting the disease, when if it was through no fault of their own. Those that you encountered were ones I have been trying to study, to learn from and make peace with. They… they don't trust humans and you…"

He trailed off, unwilling to accuse me of invoking the attack, but his silence was telling enough. It was my fault, mine and the others', though I was the only one left to suffer my new, unwelcome fate.

"The hatred they have is learned," he continued, his thumbs rubbing absently across my knuckles, his eyes tracing his movements distractedly, "the fear and anger that led them to attack you was bred into them. They were raised that way, in their pack. It's not in you."

Shuddering slightly, I forced the flashes of carnage and blood from my mind, of the tearing flesh and screams, replying softly, "But it is. I am afraid, and angry. What if I don't remember who I am when I… turn into one of them? What if I do to someone else what they did to me? What if I hurt you?"

He exhaled into a laugh and grinned charmingly up at me, "You won't. Of that I'm sure. I do have some idea of what I'm doing, you know. I'll help you. Every step of the way. It won't be too bad, I don't think."

"Says the man who isn't a werewolf," I teased lightly, squeezing his hands in mine and smiling bashfully, "thank you, Newt."

He dropped his gaze and cleared his throat, rising to his feet and pulling away from me, "W-well, now that you're m-mobile, perhaps you would like to s-see a bit more of the castle?"

Excitement flooded me and I nodded fervently. Though I hissed as jolts of sharp, searing pain shot from my still tender neck, I couldn't help but grin, eager to be free of this room and explore the magical school.

Newt positioned himself behind me, though he could easily flick his wand and allow the wheelchair to move on its own, and began to push, "I should be able to transfigure the staircases to allow us down. We must go to the Great Hall, and if you're feeling well enough, we could go outside; the grounds are quite lovely in the summer. We may catch sight of the squid in the Black Lake, or perhaps some merpeople…"

"Merpeople?" I echoed faintly, wondering just how many creatures were known to this world, creatures that I never could have imagined existed, "there are merpeople here? Are they dangerous, as well, or is that just me?"

Newt clicked his tongue, halting us outside of Dumbledore's office, at the top of the spiral staircase. It spun and in a moment, we moved through a door and into a long hallway. I couldn't have fathomed there would be more portraits than in the professor's quarters, but I was wrong. For as long as the sprawling hallway stretched, every inch of wall space had portraits that moved and sang and danced. There were animals, creatures, humans, skeletons… anything and everything, all watching us as we made our way to the Great Hall.

They whispered to each other, murmured as they eyed us, some curiously, some cautiously. Newt had told me that those within the portraits could visit others and talk to each other. Obviously Lord Benedict had been paying his fellow portraits more than a few visits.

But Newt was oblivious and I determined to be so, as well, querying curiously, "Where is the, er… Hufflepuff?... common room again?"

"Near the kitchens," he replied immediately, wheeling me through an archway and down another corridor, this one full of suits of arms that abruptly came to attention, startling me and sending Newt snickering. "Perhaps we'll stop there on our way back. I do miss visiting Dotty and Minnie; there are so many things I miss about this place."

"Why aren't you a professor here, then?" I inquired, warily watching the supposedly empty knights follow our every move, "it seems like you'd be a perfect fit."

He really would have. He was brilliant and clever, likeable in his awkwardness and sweet. So why hadn't he? Professor Dumbledore seemed incredibly fond of him; he would have given him a position on his staff without question.

"Well, I, er-"

"Slimy Salamander, back in the castle!" a wicked voice cackled, though despite my searching, belonged to someone unseen. Close, but unseen. " _Keep the kiddies away! Keep the kiddies away!_ He's going to set loose another one of his _nasty beasts_!"

A pair of icy cold lips brushed my ear and I shrieked, nearly tipping the wheelchair sideways as a small, translucent man hovered by my side. Newt jerked me away from him, positioning himself between us and standing tall, brandishing his wand. His tone was loud but wavering as he ordered, "P-Peeves! Leave us be! Professor Dumbledore knows we're here and will be very angry if you-"

But this Peeves would not listen; he spun through the air, his curly hair wild as corkscrewed, shrieking, " _Werewolf in the castle! The murderer has brought a werewolf to the castle! Run! Run! RUN!"_

Newt continued to shout, though I no longer heard his words. Because Peeves' echoed through my mind.

Murderer.

Newt was a… murderer?

Blackcat711: thank you! I'm glad you think so! It's before the movie, though maybe only by a year or two. So he's already been expelled and let the school, but I feel like Dumbledore would still keep in touch with Newt and help him when he needs it.

Guest: thank you so much!! I really appreciate it!!

Lululillie: I'm really glad you're living this story so much! I hope you like this chapter! Not too much happening just yet but when she's up walking around again, and her first transformation, it's gonna be good!!


	4. Chapter 3

Welcome back one and all! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please leave a review if you do!

Chapter Three

 _But this Peeves would not listen; he spun through the air, his curly hair wild as corkscrewed, shrieking, "_ Werewolf in the castle! The murderer has brought a werewolf to the castle! Run! Run! RUN!"

 _Newt continued to shout, though I no longer heard his words. Because Peeves' echoed through my mind._

Murderer _._

 _Newt was a… murderer?_

I sat rigid in my chair, watching Peeves float away, disappearing from sight, his cackle echoing through the corridors. Newt ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it in agitation, before turning to me with a frown, apologizing with an uncomfortable shrug, "Don't listen to him. He's a nasty little bugger, that one. Poltergeist are fascinating creatures, but I've always found that one particularly horrid."

Offering him a discomfited smile, I waved a hand and complied weakly, "Seems horrid to me."

He grinned softly before positioning himself behind me once more. He began to push, noting conversationally, "Did you know the term poltergeist originated from-"

"Newt."

He paused at the solemnity in my voice and cleared his throat awkwardly, "Y-yes, V-Vivian?"

"He was lying, wasn't he?" I queried, cursing the way my voice trembled at the question. But if he was a… a killer, and I was alone with him, perhaps things were far more dangerous than I had anticipated. Maybe he had drugged me and none of this was real? Maybe he had kidnapped me and planned to kill me. Maybe-

" _No_ ," he replied firmly, stepping around from my back and kneeling before me. He reached for me, but thought better of himself and dropped his hands to his lap, clasping them together so firmly that his knuckles were a stark white. "It's not like that. N-not entirely. I never… no one ever _died,_ though I did- my actions nearly cost someone their life, but I never meant for them to-to get so hurt. I _never_ meant to harm anyone and neither did she. Or my creature. You _must_ believe me. I-it's not at all what you think."

 _Who is she? Who is she and what was the creature?_ I wondered nervously, _was it another werewolf, or… and what happened to this person? They might not have died, but-_

"We- _I_ brought something I shouldn't have into the castle and it was… mishandled," he admitted, staring at my feet sheepishly, his cheeks coloring to the shade of a beet root, "it wasn't a dangerous creature, per se. None of them are, really. But- a student, a fellow Hufflepuff no less, _did_ nearly die because of it. I… I regret it, every day of my life. I do, truly."

"How did it happen?" I queried, curiosity overcoming the fear in my tone. Questions burned in my mind and I wanted to press him, though his answers were vague enough to tell me he didn't truly want to discuss it. "What kind of creature was it? Was it a… werewolf, like me?"

"No," he assured me, sending a rather charming grin my way, "you're the only werewolf I've met and by far my favorite."

Snorting, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling far above us and laughed, "I have to be, then, if I'm the only one you've met." He offered me a brilliant grin and, though I noticed he evaded my question, I trusted him enough to drop it for the moment. Instead, I commented, "Alright, so, another thing to know about this place; don't trust the poltergeist."

"Exactly," he grinned, hopping to his feet, lighter now than I wasn't rolling away from him in terror, "right, so where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"You were taking me to the Great Hall," I replied; he made a soft noise in agreement and we carried on. Though I didn't allow my wariness to disappear completely - he had been far too vague with his tale and wanted to know the entirety of the story - I was relatively certain Newt was honest in his admittance that he hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Perhaps I could ask Dumbledore about the story, as it had happened there in the castle and the professor had been there for decades, apparently. He would know, and he would be less likely to dance around the question than the perpetrator himself. "Do you think we might run into a house elf?"

"We could just ask for one," he answered thoughtfully, "when we get to the Hall, I'll see if one might bring us something to eat. The kitchens are too far from here and I'd like to take you outside before dark."

A massive set of twin, oak doors stood before us before too long and I stared up at them in awe. How did anyone even push them open? They were tall and wide and probably weighed a ton, but a simple touch of Newt's hand and one swung open instantly.

 _Ah, magic._

I still wasn't used to the fact that it existed, let alone could be used for anything and everything, including changing the weight of an enormous door so even the smallest of the children attending the school could open it. I could probably open it, weak as I still was, without much fuss.

If the doors leading into the Great Hall were huge, the room itself was enormous. The ceiling was sweeping, the very top hidden from view as it was covered in a beautiful scene of blue sky and white, fluffy clouds. Arched, open windows lined the stone walls, and four, long tables sat straight along the length of the room. At the far end was another table, stretched horizontally across the wall with an elegant, eagle-shaped podium before it.

"Normally, banners are above the tables," Newt noted suddenly, startling me from my reverie, "one for each house, but since there are no students at present, they're not needed. But that would be Gryffindor, and next to it Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff's next and then Slytherin at the end. Slytherin and Gryffindor are always separated; those houses have the worst rivalry."

"It's amazing!" I exclaimed, eyeing the tables in wonder and wishing the banners were there for me to see, "I wonder what house I'd be in."

"Hufflepuff," he replied immediately, flushing when I turned to look up at him in amusement, "w-well, from what I know of you. You're k-kind a-and, and, erm, well… I just know. Certainly not Slytherin."

I recalled the description of the witches and wizards that belonged to that house and grinned to myself. No, I didn't think I would fit into Slytherin, either, and was grateful that Newt agreed. Quirking a brow, I pressed, "Not Gryffindor? Am I not smart enough to be a Ravenclaw?"

"That's- no, that's not what-"

"Newt, I'm teasing you," I replied, reaching around me and patting his hand, "I think you're right. I do believe I would fit well into Hufflepuff. I wish I was magical. I mean, when I was-," I didn't want to say _normal_ , so as to not offend the certainly _not normal_ wizard behind me, "wasn't a werewolf. I could've come here, gone to all of your wizarding classes with you."

"You would've done well here, I think," he agreed softly, wheeling me to the table he identified as Hufflepuff's and positioned me at the head of it. He took a seat on the bench beside me and grinned down at me. "What would you like to eat?"

"Anything," I replied laughingly, "preferably dessert."

He ducked his head and chortled, calling out tentatively, "H-hello? Erm, Dottie? Minnie? Are you still-"

A loud crack sent me jumping, and the sight of two tiny house elves had me gaping. One was smaller than the other, with brown eyes; the taller of the two had bright green eyes and bigger, floppier ears. The two of them nearly shrieked with joy as they stared up at Newt, the green-eyed one exclaiming, "Master Scamander! It's an honor to be seeing you here again! What can Dottie get for you and your mistress?"

"S-s-she's not, not um, my m-mi-mist-"

"Hello, there, Dottie," I saved the poor, stuttering man from any further struggle, "Minnie. I'm Vivian. It's nice to meet you. I've never met a house elf before. You're both quite adorable."

Minnie tugged bashfully at her ear and Dottie beamed brightly up at me, "Many, many thanks, Mistress! You is too, _too_ kind! What can Dottie get for you? Just tell me and it's yours! Anything! _Anything!_ "

Sharing an amused glance with a still flustered Newt, I replied hastily, "I'd like a tart, if it's not too much trouble. Lemon, if-"

Minnie snapped her fingers and in an instant, the table was filled with lemon tarts, several dozen of them, and I gaped at the massive amount of sweets, "Oh, Minnie, we can't possibly eat that many!"

She looked between us and then to the dessert, giggling sheepishly, "No, I guess not, Mistress Vivian."

Clicking her fingers together once again, leaving only four tarts, which was still far too many for Newt and I. I didn't have the heart to tell her as much, though, and thanked her profusely.

Dottie beamed and then rounded on Newt, "And for you, Master Scamander? Would you still be wanting the pumpkin pasties? You was always so fond of them!"

He nodded and in an instant, there were two dozen small, orange-colored treats interspersed among the tarts. Newt reached for one immediately and took a bite, a delighted groan escaping him; with his mouth full, he turned to Dottie and Minnie and grinned, "These are just as good as I remember them being! Thank you both. It's wonderful. Do you think you could get us some butterbe-"

Bottles of a golden-hued drink appeared before us and I examined it curiously, reaching for a lemon tart and wondering what exactly it was. The tart was delicious and I told them as much; the par tittered excitedly before bowing low and asking if they could help us any further.

"No, thank you," Newt smiled, "you two are as lovely as ever."

"I hope we see you again soon!" I waved at them before they disappeared with a crack, leaving us alone in the hall once more, "what's this? Butter-something?"

"Butterbeer," Newt supplied, taking a bottle and removing the cap for me, offering it to me as I embarrassingly reached the end of one whole tart myself, "it's quite good. You'll like it. I haven't had one for ages. Here, try it?"

It was sweet and tasty, like butterscotch, smooth and warm. I gestured toward one of the pasties and tipped my head to one side, "And those? Are those good, too?"

"Try one," he replied hastily, handing me one as he drank from his own bottle, "if you'll spare me some of that lemon tart."

Blushing, I gestured toward them and studied the pasty in my hand. It looked and smelled delightful, and was just as good as I had hoped when I bit into it. Grinning broadly, I laughed, "I love your wizarding food, Mr. Scamander."

"Wonderful, isn't it?" he questioned, "I haven't had any of these things in quite some time. After leaving Hogwarts, I began to travel, working on my book."

"Will I be in it?" I inquired, somewhat self-consciously, nibbling at the pasty and staring at the table, "you can study me, probably closer than those ones in the woods. You could make all your observations, maybe safer than out there, with them."

"I-, well, I must admit, I would like to," Newt replied, dropping his eyes sheepishly, "for educational purposes. People are so frightened of the creatures they don't understand; I want to show them, teach them, that they should not be afraid."

 _I would be afraid, Newt_ , I thought, chewing thoughtfully and sighing softly, _I_ am _afraid. And you will be, too, when I turn_.

"When's the next full moon?" I inquired cautiously, finishing off the pastry and taking another sip of the butterbeer, "will I be ready, you think?"

"It's in a week," he replied, a sympathetic smile flitting across his face at my sudden panicked frown. He caught my hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Don't worry. I'll be with you every step of the way. You'll be ready, Vivian. I'll make sure of it."

A lump rose to my throat and tears pricked at my eyes, my voice raw with emotion as I smiled, "Thank you, Newt."

"Of course," he replied, snatching another pumpkin pasty from the table with a wink, "now, shall we visit the grounds?"

Nodding, I grabbed another tart and allowed the wizard to roll me out of the Great Hall and to the castle's entrance. Though I calmed some, I was still anxious for the full moon. I knew by the time it came, I would be a panicked mess, but with Newt's assurance, I take the next few days to prepare myself as best I could.

Though, I wasn't certain how prepared you could actually _be_ for your first transformation as a werewolf…

If I thought the doors to the Great Hall were big, the ones at the castle's entrance dwarfed them completely. Intricate designs lined them and, when Newt pressed his hand to one, they began to move. I realized they were locks and his touch began to unlatch them.

Soon, the door swung open and the outside world was revealed to me once more. It had been days and I had never quite seen the world like I did now. The grass was greener, the sky bluer, the sun shining brighter than I had ever seen it before. I could see the forest clearly, though it was far off in the distance, and the glimmering lake at the far end of the grounds. I could hear every last bird chirp and tweet, the wind rustling through leaves far out of sight. I smelled things I couldn't name, let alone see in the immediate area.

It was incredible and overwhelming and Newt seemed to realize this, giving me a moment to take everything in. He remained silent at my back, resting a light hand on my shoulder until I reached up and covered his with my own. He let out a nervous chuckle, withdrawing his hand and querying gently, "Shall we?"

Nodding, I grinned as he wheeled me onto the grass, the trip far less bumpy than I expected. I had the feeling he had enchanted the chair to keep from making the trip too uncomfortable for me and my heart swelled in gratitude to the strange magizoologist.

We wandered far and wide, toward the groundskeeper's hut, empty for the summer until he returned for the fall semester. A field of wildflowers stretched behind it, toward the forest, and I admired the sight. We paused for a moment, and Newt dashed around the chair, toward the colorful patch. He stooped low, gathering a handful, before righting himself and rolling his shoulders. He rounded on me, face redder than ever, and offered them to me with a smile.

Taking them, I inhaled deeply, admiring the scent far more than I ever could have as my old human self. Newt's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he hopped slightly and positioned himself to push me along once more. Smiling to myself, I quirked a brow; maybe being a werewolf had its advantages.

/

Lululillie: I hope you like this chapter! Sorry I couldn't get it out sooner!

.2017: thank you!


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